However, Frank was human, and learning of Arthur Vartanian’s duplicity in Simon’s “first death” must have been hard to take. It made Frank look foolish, and the press had exacerbated it all, making Frank appear a hokey hometown sheriff who couldn’t tie his shoes without help. It was no wonder Frank was angry. I’d be angry, too.

He pulled away from the news vans headed toward Main Street. He was exhausted and he still had to find Lamar Washington’s jazz bar before he finally got to sleep.

Dutton, Tuesday, January 30, 1:40 a.m.

They were leaving, Alex thought, standing at the window of the bungalow, watching all the cars come down the hill. Wondering from whose house they’d come. She pulled her robe closer, fighting a chill that had nothing to do with the thermostat.

She’d dreamed again. Thunder and lightning. And screams, jagged piercing screams. She’d been at the morgue and the woman on the table had sat up and stared through sightless eyes. But her eyes were Bailey’s, her hand Bailey’s as she reached out, her flesh waxy and… dead. And she’d said, “Please. Help me.”

Alex had woken in a cold sweat, shaking so hard she was sure she’d wake Hope. But the child slept heavily. Unsettled, Alex had come out to the living room to pace.

And to worry. Where are you, Bailey? And how do I take care of your baby girl?

“Please, God,” she whispered. “Don’t let me mess this up.”

But there was no return whisper in the dark and Alex stood, watching car after car come down the hill. Then one slowed and stopped in front of her bungalow.

Her stomach tightened in fear and she thought about the gun in the lockbox until she recognized the car and its driver.

Daniel’s car rolled down Main Street, past the park with the carousel, stopping outside Alex’s rented bungalow. He’d lied to her tonight and it was eating him up.

She’d asked him straight out what he knew and he’d told her there was nothing to tell. Which, he averred, was not a total lie. He didn’t have anything to tell her yet. He certainly wouldn’t show her the pictures of her sister being violated. Alex Fallon had been through enough without seeing that.

He thought about Wade Crighton. I’ll see you in hell. Her stepbrother had known Simon, and that could never be good. Wade had tried to rape Alex and for that alone Daniel was glad he was dead. Alex thought she’d kept her story light, but Daniel had seen the truth in her eyes.

And if her stepbrother had tried to molest her once thinking she was Alicia, maybe he’d done so again. Maybe it was Wade in the picture with Alicia Tremaine. The man had two legs, so Daniel was positive it was not Simon, but if they’d known each other…

And who were the other girls? It had been nagging him. Maybe they were local girls. Maybe they’d gone to the public school. Daniel wouldn’t have known them, but Simon might have. Daniel wondered if there were any other small-town murders he just hadn’t heard about yet. He wondered if the other girls in the pictures were dead, too.

Give the pictures to Chase. The thought had been circling his mind for a week. He had turned the pictures over to the Philly police, which was the only thing that was letting him get any sleep at all. But Daniel was sure Vito Ciccotelli hadn’t had time to do anything with the envelope full of pictures he’d given him less than two weeks ago. Vito and his partner were still up to their asses cleaning up the mess Simon had left behind.

I’ll see you in hell, Simon. Daniel wondered what messes Wade and Simon had left behind, although any crimes they’d committed would be more than ten years old. He had a brand-new crime. He owed his concentration to Janet Bowie. He needed to find out who hated her enough to kill her in such a way.

Then again, Janet Bowie might have simply been a convenient target and not the object of any rage or revenge. Or… Daniel thought of Congressman Bowie. The man had taken some tough stances on controversial issues. Maybe somebody hated him enough to kill his daughter. But why the tie to Alicia? Why now? And why leave a key?

He’d put his car in gear when the bungalow door opened and Alex stepped onto the porch and his breath caught in his throat. She wore a sensible robe that covered her from her chin to her toes. It should have made her look dowdy and plain, but all he could think about was what lay underneath. The wind had kicked up, tossing her glossy hair, and she scooped it back with one hand to stare at him across the tiny front yard.

There was no smile on her face. The thought registered as he killed his engine and crossed her yard, single-minded in his intent. To leave her, to drive on by, never entered his mind, only to have now what he’d wanted earlier, what the call from the Fun-N-Sun security chief had kept him from taking. He needed to see that wide-eyed wonder again, the look in her eyes when she’d finally understood what he wanted from her. He needed to see that she wanted him, too.

Without slowing for a greeting, he took the porch stairs in one step, took her face in his hands, covered her mouth with his, and took what he needed. She made a hungry sound deep in her throat and leaned up on her toes, trying to get closer, and the kiss exploded into motion and heat.

She let go of her hair and her robe to clutch at the lapels of his coat, propelling her mouth into his. Daniel let go of her face to pull her arms around his neck. He splayed his hands across her slender back and pulled until her body was flush against him and he took what he wanted as the wind whistled and screamed around them.

It had been too long, was all he could think, all he could hear over the wind and the pounding of his own pulse in his ears. Too long since he’d felt like this. Alive. Invincible. Too damn long. Or maybe never.

Too soon she slid back down until her heels hit the porch, ending the kiss and taking her warmth with her. Needing more, he ran his lips over her jaw and buried his face in the curve of her shoulder. He shuddered, breathing hard as her hands stroked his hair, soothing. And as his pulse slowed, his mind returned and his cheeks heated in embarrassment at the depth of his need. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, lifting his head. “I don’t normally do things like that.”

She traced his lips with her fingers. “Neither do I. But I needed it tonight. Thank you.”

Annoyance bubbled up through him. “Stop thanking me.” It was almost a snarl and she flinched as if he’d struck her. Feeling about an inch tall, he bowed his head and caught her hand, bringing her fingers back to his lips when she tried to pull away. “I’m sorry. But I don’t want you thinking I’m doing this for any other reason than that I wanted to.” Needed to. “I wanted to,” he repeated. “I wanted you. I still do.”

She drew a breath and he could see her pulse throbbing at the hollow of her throat. The wind was whipping her hair and once again she scooped it back out of her face. “I see.” Her lips curved to lighten her words, but her eyes were stark. Haunted, even.

“What happened?” he demanded.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

Daniel clenched his jaw. “Alex.”

She looked away. “Nothing. I just had a bad dream, that’s all.” She looked back and met his eyes. “I had a bad dream, so I got up. And there you were.”

He pressed his lips to her palm. “I stopped here because I was thinking about you. And there you were. And I couldn’t stop myself.”

She shivered and he glanced down as she shifted, covering one totally bare foot with the other. He frowned. “Alex, you’re not wearing any shoes.”

Her lips curved, sincerely this time. “I wasn’t expecting to stand out on my porch kissing you.” She leaned up and into his mouth, kissing him a good deal more softly than he’d kissed her. “But I liked it.”